


An Exposed Nerve

by firecracker189



Series: Our Little Family [13]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Little!Bruce, Non-Sexual Age Play, daddy!Phil, nsap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 11:58:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15605790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firecracker189/pseuds/firecracker189
Summary: Bruce is overstimulated and needs a little help.





	An Exposed Nerve

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The_Secret_Life_Of_Tea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Secret_Life_Of_Tea/gifts).



> I'm re-adjusting to some adhd medication, i've got side effects, so it inspired me to in my overstimulated state, write something about poor Bruce. We all know he gets pretty overstimulated sometimes. Also, like a thousand apologies for not updating any of my WIPS. I'm terrible but i've got this and some other things I'm juggling atm and i just haven't had the energy to write lately.

Bruce was over stimulated at least five times a week. Usually he could handle the meltdowns on his own, but all he really wanted right now was for the headache to go away, his skin to stop feeling like it was on fire, and for his muscles not to feel like they were going to snap him in half from carrying so much tension. He staggered down the hallway, JARVIS helpfully dimming all the lights as Bruce passed by, and knocked on Phil’s door.

“Come in.” Came the muffled cry.

Bruce pushed open the door and staggered in, a long drawn out whine leaving his lips. Phil just looked so damn domestic standing there in sweats and a tee shirt, his bare feet sinking into plush carpeting. Bruce couldn’t take it anymore. He surged forward, grabbed Phil in a big hug, and started to cry.

“What’s wrong?” Phil asked, immediately going into full Dad Mode and rubbing his back. “JARVIS?” he asked, when minutes had passed and Bruce hadn’t spoken.

 _I believe Bruce is experiencing the emotional and physical toll of over stimulation at moment, Phil. I have soundproofed your apartment, but I am also going to turn off the lights except for a dim light along the floorboards to guide from room to room._ JARVIS did so, and Bruce _melted_ into Phil’s arms with a little grateful whimper.

Phil stroked his back firmly. “Alright, buddy. It’s okay. Let’s get you into the bedroom and change your clothes. Then we can cuddle in the dark for a while until you start to feel better.” Phil kept up a soft whisper so it wouldn’t add to the burden Bruce carried.

Bruce let out a loud whine when Phil tried to get him to let go. “Do…you want me to carry you?” he asked tentatively, and Bruce nodded against his shoulder. “Okay. Alright. Here we go,” he hoisted Bruce onto his hip and made his way into the bedroom, JARVIS closing the door softly behind them with help from automatic hinges. Phil set Bruce down on the bed and started working him out of his day clothes. Something baggy and soft would have to do—something with absolutely no weight to it, something that wouldn’t aggravate that constant ‘exposed nerve’ feeling that sometimes got to be too much for Bruce. He settled for a thin tee and pair of baggy sweatpants.

That done, he crawled up onto the bed and dumped the pillows on the floor, leaving only the pillows used for sleeping. “C’mere, buddy.” Phil whispered kindly, and Bruce slowly made his way to the top of the bed, curling into the strong embrace. “That’s it. Are you thirsty? Hot? Do you have a headache?”” Phil phrased his questions deliberately so that Bruce could shake or nod if he needed to. “Headache?” he asked again, and Bruce gave another nod. “Hot?” Another nod. “Okay. I can work with that. J, turn the temp down so it’s a little chilly in here. I have to let go now, so I can get you some water and some painkillers. Can I do that?” Phil was rewarded with another nod. When he got up to go to the bathroom and get the glass and pills, he noted that Bruce’s eyes were screwed shut tightly, and he was still crying. He clucked sympathetically as he filled the glass and grabbed a couple pills from the bottle by the sink. “Here,” He tapped Bruce’s chin and he opened up his mouth, letting Phil give him the pills and the water. Bruce’s arms were probably not that trustworthy at the moment.

He set the cup on the bedside table and wiggled back down so he was flat against the bed. Bruce took the cue and crawled on top of him, burying his face into Phil’s neck. “Papa,” he whined.

Phil stroked his back. “I know, honey. I know. It’ll pass once you’ve laid here for a while. Let’s just take a nap, okay? I think we will both benefit from that.” His heart had done a little flip-flop when Bruce finally did speak. ‘Papa’ was normally a Clint thing or even sometimes a Tony thing, not really a Bruce thing. Phil ate it up like candy. “You go to sleep for me, and when you wake up, you can help Papa make sure Liho gets her fur brushed. Tasha’s letting me watch her this week, and you know how she gets when Liho doesn’t get treated like a princess.” Bruce giggled softly and Phil felt his heart soar.

Moment by moment and bit by bit, Bruce’s muscles began to go lax against Phil, his breathing regulating itself as he headed towards sleep. Phil rubbed his back until his arm went numb and he had to switch hands. He was pleased that Bruce chose to come to him when things got too rough for him to handle on his own. It was an immense sign of trust for him. Bruce finally dropped off to sleep and Phil smiled drowsily. “Love you, buddy.” He whispered as he fell asleep.


End file.
